Robin furrowed his brows. "This tournament… as far as I know, it's held once every ten years, each time in a different kingdom. It's supposed to be between the princes of the royal families and the sons of dukes who have already reached the tenth level. Inviting Caesar, who hasn't even broken into the ninth level yet—and who is merely the son of an earl—doesn't sound realistic at all."
"…We know. But isn't that a good thing?" The man scratched his head. "The family celebrated the very day the invitation arrived."
"Who sent it exactly?" Robin's eyes narrowed.
"Our Black Sun royal family. They want Caesar to be part of the kingdom's official expedition this cycle. It's supposed to be a huge honor."
"Honor?" Robin scoffed. "Do you think the other kingdoms will celebrate his success? No! …I don't like this. What's the Patriarch's stance?"
The man hesitated. "Actually… I think your words crossed his mind too. He forbade Caesar from roaming and challenging geniuses like before. He arranged the best training resources for him and ordered family members to spar with him daily. He told Caesar to focus on breaking through to the ninth level as fast as possible."
Robin gave a faint nod. "Good… the old man still has some sense left. Fine, you can take your load and go now."
"Yes, Sir Robin." The man bowed respectfully, picked up the box, dropped the heavy bags of coins, and left. He didn't even question why he bowed—this mysterious figure simply commanded obedience.
Robin leaned back, muttering under his breath. "The Eight Kingdoms Tournament, huh…"
Four Months Later
Time flew by. A little more than four months passed in a blur.
Robin had used this period to break through to the seventh level and was already preparing for the eighth, all while perfecting his talismans.
Peon emerged from seclusion too, his training complete. He had mastered the Perfect Wind Law-Cultivation Technique and ascended to the ninth level. Theo, on his side, also broke through to level nine.
Only little Zara lagged behind, still at level five. She spent her days tirelessly drawing talismans, trying to increase her production speed.
One day, Robin summoned them. "Theo. Peon. I have a mission for you both."
"Please give us your orders, Master." The two appeared instantly.
"This Eight Kingdoms Tournament will begin in just over a month. Peon, did you find out where it's being held this time?"
"Yes, Master. In the Kingdom of Dolivar. That kingdom shares a small border with ours—specifically with the Evren Duchy, which in turn borders the Alton Duchy."
"Next to Alton, huh? Even so, the distance is far… the Burton expedition has probably already departed. Good thing I called you now." Robin nodded.
"What do you mean, Master?" Theo asked.
"I want you both to head to the competition and support Caesar if needed. Something about this doesn't sit right with me."
Peon frowned. "But… what exactly could happen? It's an official invitation. I don't believe Dolivar—or anyone else—would dare harm young master Caesar. That would provoke the wrath of our royal family."
"I don't know," Robin admitted. "But my gut is restless, and that is rare for me. Just go. Even moral support is enough. You two are the only ones who can keep up with him."
Theo and Peon exchanged glances, then bowed. "We understand."
Robin picked up a few talismans from his desk and tossed them to Peon. The hides were thicker, pulsing with a much stronger aura. Four bore a flame symbol with 16 etched inside. Two others carried a black circle marked with 50s.
"I hope you never need these toys. But if you do… don't hesitate."
He then scribbled on an empty scroll, sealed it, and handed it over. "Give this to Mila Bradley on your way. Good luck."
"And to you too, Master." They bowed deeply, then left. After some quick preparations, they began their journey toward Dolivar.
Even after they departed, Robin's heart remained heavy with unease. He wished he could forbid Caesar from going altogether, but that would stain both Caesar's and the family's reputation—and would shatter Robin's long-term plans. Problems were inevitable. Caesar had to face them. And maybe… maybe this dread was just his imagination.
Mila Receives the Scroll
Peon and Theo arrived at Mila Bradley's residence. Peon raised his voice clearly, "I am Peon, and this is Theo—servants of Sir Robin Burton. We've come to deliver a letter to Lady Mila."
Mila, who had been meditating, appeared instantly before her guards could even speak. She snatched the scroll from Peon's hand, her movements startling both of them.
They had expected resistance, maybe even a fight with the guards to gain an audience.
She opened it, read once, twice, then again. Her brows furrowed deeper with each pass. Finally, she looked up at Peon. "I understand… you can leave. I'll see what I can do."
Neither Peon nor Theo knew what the message contained, but they knew their part was finished. They bowed and left swiftly, racing toward Dolivar.
Days Before the Tournament
The Eight Kingdoms Tournament was only days away.
Caesar had already arrived with the Burton expedition in Dolivar's capital. Though they traveled with a saint and many knights, their presence wasn't especially eye-catching here. Saints walked openly through the streets, and nobody blinked.
Princes, dukes' sons, royal heirs—the city overflowed with prodigies and their entourages. The streets were decked in banners, music, and lanterns, swelling with merchants who came to exploit the excitement. Auctions, secret meetings, deals in the shadows—everything thrived under the cover of this grand event.
In the midst of it, Caesar strolled through the markets with a companion at his side, marveling at the crowd. "Hmm. I heard Father used to do this too, after every seclusion. Actually, he still does it… but I don't understand why."
"I wish I could answer you," the man beside him said, shaking his head. "I only know of him through tales of the older generation."
"Don't worry, Uncle John. I think Dad would be glad to meet you and Aunt someday." Caesar patted the man's shoulder warmly. This was John—the child Robin's mother had birthed before her death. Robin's blood brother.
John gave a bitter laugh. "Hah. I doubt it. I've always felt Big Brother knew of our existence, but never asked about us. I don't blame him—he doesn't owe me anything—but… his shadow has loomed over me and my sister all our lives. Sometimes it was a curse, sometimes a blessing. When he ran away, we suffered. Now that he sent you back, we're honored like heroes. His existence shaped everything, yet we never once saw his face… Tell me, boy, isn't that miserable?"
Caesar faltered, unsure what to say. "My father… he's always busy. Even when I lived with him, we didn't spend much time together."
"Don't console me," John laughed again, though there was pain in his voice. "Still… I look forward to the day I meet him."